I Don't Love You More Than Anyone My Dear
by with-etoiles
Summary: Blaine didn't really know what he was doing; he was just trying to cultivate this weird quasi- friendship thing going on between them. He felt sort of attached to Quinn. He felt like he needed her, oddly enough.


And I Don't Love You More Than Anyone My Dear (But I Need You More Than Anyone 'Round Here)

"Blaine, what are you doing here?" Kurt walked nonchalantly up to him, reaching for his hand and sliding in next to him.

Breadstix was bustling with people, more hectic than it had ever been. At least, that was what Kurt told him. He hadn't been situated in the McKinley social scene for long, but Kurt had made it pretty clear that this was the best place to find a member of New Directions. So, with a nervous glance around the restaurant, Blaine freed his hand almost subconsciously. Kurt looked hurt.

"Babe," he started, "why did you just do that?" As far as Kurt knew, Blaine had always been the one to take the initiative. He had been the one to close the infamous gap between their bodies, nuzzling Kurt in a tight grasp or conversely bringing his lips to his, releasing everything he had into that kiss, letting Kurt know how much he was loved. But now he pulled away. What had Kurt done to create a split between them? He thought that the space they had conquered had vanished, floated off into whatever lies up there above the sky. Maybe now it was situated right between them, hoarding their positive energies for itself.

Blaine hadn't even realized that he had pulled away until he saw Kurt's face. "Uh, I, I didn't even realize, Kurt."

"Oh-kay," Kurt enunciated slowly, sliding his hand across the table to find Blaine's again. He was testing the waters now, seeing if he would pull away again.

Blaine hesitated, knowing that he could not allow himself to be roped into a commitment here. As much as he wanted to take Kurt's hand, feel all it's familiar grooves, rub soothing circles onto it, he knew he couldn't. He had to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. But how could he do that without alerting Kurt's suspicions? He was already riling him up, he could tell. He really hated to do that, so he prayed that a distraction would come so that he could fulfill his purpose here. He really did want to stay with Kurt though, distract him for a bit from this crazy world that they exist in. He wanted to distract himself, but he knew he couldn't. But, figuring that the consequences of not taking his hand outweighed the positives, he did, praying for a distraction to appear. He couldn't let himself get lost or too attached before he could escape.

Much to his relief, Mercedes suddenly appeared. "Mercedes," he called out quietly.

Mercedes wandered over and took them in. "Looks like my lil' baby Kurt's getting some loving!"

Kurt blushed deeply. "Mercedes!"

Blaine let go of Kurt's hand and mockingly shook Mercedes. "Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson. I hope that I am worthy of your stamp of approval, Mrs. Hummel. I promise you that you will have any reason to regret letting me date your son."

Kurt was equally mortified and tickled absolutely pink at Blaine. He was just so cute and the fact that he knew he had the permission to just reach over and have his way with him made it even harder to resist…

Blaine was saying something to him and fiddling with his hands. "Ku-Kurt? So?"

"Huh?"

"I have to go?"

"Oh yeah, ok. See you later?"

"Of course," Blaine replied, playfully condescending.

Kurt watched him leave, feeling the mood lift. _Hold on,_ he thought, _the mood lift_?

* * *

><p>Blaine meandered around the front of the restaurant and the bathroom, anyplace to stall time until he saw who he was looking for. When he left the bathroom, he saw her. A flash of blond hair and the click of a hiker boot type heel against the dirty floor brought him salvation from his mindless wandering. He turned on his heel and ran to catch her.<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt was stuck without a ride outside of Breadstix, lost in daydreams. He saw Blaine's face repeatedly; he couldn't shake it out from between his ears. However, he couldn't help but let that tiny nagging feeling overtake his dreams as they wore on. Why did Blaine have to leave? Did he ever say? As he thought back, he didn't remember him giving an excuse. What did it mean? He didn't like to be like the increasingly neurotic circle of dating in New Directions; he'd had enough of that already. He knew that he and Blaine had a solid relationship, one of the only sane ones in Glee Club. So why was his mind craning itself to see above this tiny roadblock? He knew there was a perfectly sane reason that Blaine had to leave. He knew Blaine better than that to doubt him. So when he saw a peek of Blaine's familiar gelled hair around the corner, he didn't doubt him. He pushed away his doubts and sat on a bench outside the restaurant, laying back, closing his eyes, and blocking out the world.<p>

* * *

><p>"Quinn!" Blaine was breathless as he chased her around into the restaurant, one half of his mind telling him that he was making too big of a deal of this, that Kurt might see him, and the other half telling him this had to be done. He was all about the courage, wasn't he? So, where was his when he most needed it?<p>

"Quinn," his voice lowered as she turned around. He saw a panicked look flash through her eye and a swirl of her dress confirmed her disappearance.

"No, Quinn, wait!" He didn't care anymore about anyone noticing him. He needed to talk to her. They both knew something had to be discussed and it couldn't wait.

"Quinn Fabray! Stop!" She finally stopped, desperation laced through her features.

"Blaine Anderson?" Her tone was so cold, her jaw upturned so sharply it could cut the tension between them. Her back, however, was slumped as she turned away from him.

"Why did you try to kiss me?"

She sighed, and her voice became a little scratchy, almost like her vocal cords had to strain to force the next four words out. With an almost mechanical gesture, she jerked her hand toward an unoccupied table.

"Sit down with me."

* * *

><p>Back at his home, Kurt was meticulously working through Spanish. He knew every word and translation on this infernal worksheet like the back of his hand, but he had a sudden urging to distract himself. Not an urging, a need. He couldn't let his mind focus on the glint of Blaine's hair as it flew around the corner, chasing some invisible force. However, to his mind, that glint was like a flame to a very stupid moth. He watched in his mind's eye as the flame drew closer, setting the Spanish verbs, names, and memories encapsulated in his brain on fire. He watched as his memories of trying to sing a duet with Sam were scorched, watched as his Blaine raised his eyes up to him for the first time. Watched as the whole scene faded away, watched as it was engulfed in flames of disgusting curiosity and distrust. He watched as his mind revisited this past, one that he had labeled perfection. Blaine's face inches from his as they dueted, Blaine throwing up papers, Pavarotti dying, Kurt's remorse because he had felt like some odd part of himself had embedded itself, forcefully, into Pavarotti's soft feathers and innocent voice. He watched as it was all set ablaze, and he cursed himself internally as the immovable force of want and need propelled him toward the flame. And finally Blaine's anxious face as he told Kurt he had to leave earlier that day at Breadstix had appeared. The lighting in the place seemed too bright, too stark for his tastes. Blaine's face was too out of focus, everything was too painfully bright. He felt the warmth grow stronger and stronger until his mind felt like an inferno. Just as he himself was about to feel the fiery wrath of his stupid feelings, a sudden pop of noise brought him back to the present.<p>

"Finn, stop popping your gum!"

* * *

><p>"You still haven't explained why…" Blaine trailed off tenderly. He saw how broken Quinn was about this, and being broken was no stranger feeling to him. So instead of continuing, he took a bite of those infamous breadsticks that the restaurant was named after. He had to admit, they were very good.<p>

"I don't really know what I'm saying," Quinn admitted, huffing very despondently. She went to grab a breadstick too, but stopped herself when her hand came close to Blaine's. Her fingers tremored fraily. It didn't escape Blaine's notice.

"I keep telling myself that maybe it was just me. That maybe everyone last year was right. I'm a slut, I'm a whore. I don't know. I love yours and Kurt's relationship. I would never want to break you up. I just don't know what overtook me back there! I know you're gay, I know you're dating Kurt. What I don't know is why I was so stupid as to allow myself to ever be attracted to you-"

"You are **not. **Stop it."

"Not a what? I am-"

"No, just **stop**. Please. This is not going to accomplish anything."

She just wiped her eyes defeatedly. "Look, I'm really sorry okay? I just can't talk to you about this."

"No, wait, Quinn-"

But she was already gone, having left money to pay for the food behind. Blaine stared determinedly at the crumpled dollar bills, trying to think. But all he could think was how those bills were probably the last remnant of Quinn he would ever see. He loved Quinn. Not as a lover, but as a friend. And if there was anything he was good at recognizing, it was being hurt. He wanted to help so badly that his heart ached uncomfortably in it's barriers, trying to fly free. Instead it met the iron fist of Blaine's inner gentleman training. _A gentleman shall not pursue a lady if their discontent is clearly stated._ He and his heart wanted so badly to screw that, to run after Quinn. Instead he sat stock still, absentmindedly nibbling at his breadstick and furrowing his eyes at the crumpled money.

* * *

><p>He remembered that day. It had happened innocently. Nothing in particular was happening; they were just studying at his house. His parents weren't home, thankfully, so no drama on that front would occur. Blaine didn't really know what he was doing; he was just trying to cultivate this weird quasi- friendship thing going on between them. He felt sort of attached to Quinn. He felt like he <em>needed<em> her, oddly enough. He didn't know much about Quinn's history except for what Kurt had told him, but that had been preened from rumors abound McKinley's atmosphere, and who knew which of those could be trusted? He knew, of course, that she had had a pregnancy the year before and that there was some strange misunderstanding between Puck (who was the baby daddy) and Finn (who had thought he could get a girl pregnant through a hot tub? He still didn't get that part.). Either way, Quinn had managed to lie to Finn with more intensity every passing second of that year until it all inevitably exploded. Finn finally found out that the baby wasn't his and they broke up, leaving Quinn with the option of pursuing Puck. He still wasn't sure if that part happened, although he knew she went on to date Sam and then Finn again, because Kurt refused to engage him anymore in the toxic atmosphere of the McKinley rumor mill (even though that last part wasn't technically a rumor…) and had dropped the subject. As he pondered these things, Quinn snapped at him.

"Blaine! Pay attention, moron."

Blaine faked a laugh. He knew Quinn had a bit of an abrasive personality, but that was only because she was so _broken_. For some weird reason, he felt such a coarsely great need to stay with her and fix her. He probably shouldn't probe into her past so much, but he just wanted so badly for someone to understand what it was like, and he thought that Quinn could be that. He just wanted so badly to see her beautiful face lift once in a while. "Plenty of boys must find that attractive," he thought nonchalantly. "She's got to know that. So why does she act like…?" She just needed someone platonically.

"Sorry. Where were we?"

"French. You were supposed to help me jog my memory of French verbs. I honestly cannot remember any for the life of me."

"Right, right. Okay, let me see them."

Quinn slid her book closer to Blaine, keeping a cautiously safe distance between them.

"Right, so these are just simple actions. For example, _faire le l'innocent_ means-?"

Quinn was side eyeing him hard. "Is there any particular reason that you chose that phrase of the fifty on the page?"

He smiled a bit, trying to channel all the charm he was constantly told he had. "No reason."

She huffed unconvincingly. "_Oh- kay_. It means _to act innocent_."

"Right. What about _hazarder_?"

"_To hazard_. But enough with the cognates, I don't have trouble with those!"

"Alright then,_ jaser_?"

"_To chatter_. And for the record, you're not fooling me. I notice there's a pattern in these words."

He scooted a little closer to Quinn, the mobile chair he was in creaking softly. "And what would that be, Miss Fabray?"

She shifted uncomfortably again, quickly going to pick at her nails painted like coal. She propped herself up against the headboard of Blaine's bed, hugging her legs closer to her. "Blaine, what in the _world_ are you doing?"

He scooted back again, resigning himself to the distance between them. "I just need to know what this is."

"What what is?"

"Don't play stupid Quinn, please." His words dragged out, long and ragged.

"I just don't know what I'm doing here."

"Just spit it out Blaine!"

He hesitated, his mouth mechanically opening and closing but nothing but a wisp of air floating between them. "I…I feel like something inside of me is pulling me to you. Obviously, it's a good thing that I'm gay so that you know that I'm not, um, well, in lo- _attracted_ to you, but I don't know what it is and why I'm even here. I need to be your friend for some bizarre reason the world wanted to plague me with, and now my chest- it just hurts."

Quinn's look immediately softened. She should be offended, she knew, but she just felt an odd warmth blooming in _her _chest. "Well then."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm overstepping. I'll just leave now." He hastily grabbed his books and fled to the door, not even looking back to see Quinn's fallen face.

"No, stop! Stay here." He turned around sheepishly to see her given him a half crescent smile, yet it was strained. She was obviously trying to control something in her face.

"Look," he continued after depositing himself in his chair again, "I know we're both just stupid teenagers and I know how this should end. We've hanged out more than a few times, enough to make Kurt question us- I'm still not sure if he was joking or genuinely querying- and every time it's seemed like something changed. I felt like, well I felt like I was more complete, or some weird cliché like that. I really like you, Quinn, but not romantically. And I want to be good friends with you. But I see how lonely and quiet you are. God, Quinn, you're hurting. I'm not going to pretend that I'm a prestidigitator and that I could make that disappear and suddenly everything will be alright. I can't do that, but I want to he-I want to help."

He nervously slid closer to Quinn and took her hand. No matter the awkwardness of being in that creaky chair, undermining the atmosphere he was trying to create. It could just turn serious into horribly comical, fine.

"Like I said," he took a deep breath, "I know how this is supposed to end. How it would end if I were straight. I would kiss you right now,_ right now,_ and we would fall in love. I would try to be the perfect guy for you; I would try to be the person that would make you forget about your terrible dating past. But I can't do that."

Quinn was breathing hard, either on the verge of tears or ready to kick Blaine out of her life forever. He didn't care, his heart was all twisted and messed up, he had to resolve it.

"But I see you hurting and all I want to do is fix it. I know I've really blasted the limits of friendship to oblivion-"

She sighed quietly, swinging herself back onto the edge of the bed. "Blaine, what are you doing to me?"

He was completely oblivious. "What?"

"You're sitting there- You're sitting there being damn perfect!"

She was definitely crying now. Scratch that, she was sobbing. "I want nothing more than to grab you and kiss you senseless. I want nothing more than to be yours-but oh God, there's Kurt, and of course you're gay, and of course when the universe wants to send me something that can actually fix me he's gay-"

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and collapsed into him, sobbing. "I-don't-know-why-I'm-doing-this."

Blaine just sat there quietly, tenderly rubbing circles on Quinn's back. He knew this would happen if he tried to bring anyone into his crazy twisted world, even platonically. He thought he could talk with Quinn, because it seemed like they had so much in common and he wanted to unfold that, but he was just a teenager and he didn't know what he was doing. He just broke Quinn down to a sobbing mess. What was wrong with him?

She sniffled noisily, releasing Blaine's shirt. "Um, I'm sorry about that."

"No, it's fine." He absentmindedly swatted at the wrinkles, not quite sure what he was trying to accomplish.

"Um, well, maybe you should- maybe you should-"

"Go? Alright. I'm so sorry. I promise I'll stay out of your life, I guess."

"Fermez la bouche," she muttered under her breath, quickly advancing toward him. Her mind must've been malfunctioning for her to speak in French like that, but in that moment she could've cared less. Before she knew what she was doing, she was close, too close, to the boy named Blaine Anderson, the boy who has a boyfriend and who she should not be bringing her mouth closer to. No. It was all wrong.

"Je suis desolée, mais je t'aime."

(I'm so sorry, but I love you.)

* * *

><p>Blaine pulled into the driveway of Kurt's house a few hours after his confrontation with Quinn. He really wanted, needed, to tell Kurt about it. He wanted advice and he wanted to know why he needed so badly to be Quinn's friend. However, his courage was just failing him in all kinds of ways today. He felt like what had happened between them was intensely personal. But where did the lines between what secrets lovers keep and what secrets friends keep blur? Maybe he should've made an excuse and not come to Kurt's house. He needed to be alone.<p>

A succinct rap of knockings on the window of his door destroyed any chances of him getting away.

"Kurt, hi." He knew his voice was tired and hard, but he didn't feel like putting up a disguise now. Kurt slid into the seat next to him.

"I should ask if you're okay but I think it's a given that you're not," he began.

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

Kurt just waited, his big, hypnotic blue eyes boring into him, exposing his faults, insecurities and absurdities.

Tiny rain droplets started lighting the windows, tapping out a tiny rhythm.

"I feel confused," Blaine said lamely.

He just kept waiting quietly.

"You know how I hang out with Quinn?"

"Yes…" Kurt didn't really know where this was supposed to be going.

"Well, it makes me confused."

"In what way?" Kurt was gently searching Blaine's face.

"In the way that my heart hurts."

Suddenly the rain was escalating on his car windows. The soothing tapping rhythm was a violent tour de force of angry water unfurling itself. It pounded to the rhythm of his heart.

"I love you, okay?" Blaine's voice was louder, more demanding.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I hate it. I hate that I don't know why Quinn affects me so profoundly and I hate what it's doing to our friendship. I _need_ her, Kurt. I don't know why but I do. Tell me why?" That last sentence was a desperate question, a desperate plea for help. The rain was still increasing in volume, still pounding so loudly that he even felt like he was soaking wet within the protection of his car.

"Oh…"

"Yeah, oh. What do I do Kurt? I don't understand!" The rain was beating, thrashing every emotion out of him, shattering his gentleman façade he so often adopted in situations like this.

Kurt scooted over and turned off the car. Blaine hadn't even realized it was still running and suddenly everything was quiet. It was just the rain, which was quietly backing off.

"First of all, I love you too."

That probed a smile out of Blaine.

"Secondly, I can't pretend to tell you why you need Quinn. I can't even say that I know her all that well, despite having had Glee Club with her for roughly a year and a half. But I can tell you this. I'm sure you know the answer, in fact I'm certain that you know the answer. You just don't want to admit it to yourself. Give yourself the liberty of finding that out."

Blaine smiled shyly and climbed out, beckoning Kurt to as well.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

* * *

><p>Kurt watched as Blaine drove away, flashing him smiles. Blaine wasn't the only one confused. He had admitted that he was hanging out with Quinn. So, Kurt had logically concluded that Blaine had been hanging out with Quinn when he saw Blaine still at Breadstix earlier that day. Blaine should've known he'd be understanding. Why did he lie? He hated to be like this, but the feeling wouldn't go away. He wanted to be happy and lovesick again, he didn't want to doubt Blaine all the time like this. Like he thought earlier, he was sure there was a perfectly sane reason as to why Blaine didn't tell him. He was sure.<p>

* * *

><p>The next day of school, Kurt walked wearily through the hallways, side-eyeing Santana as she loudly proclaimed, "Teen gay, you may now proceed to the next point without fear of danger!"<p>

"Do you really think this is necessary?"

"Of course," Santana replied smartly, "you have nothing to worry about now."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, but it just hurts my pride a little bit to have to be escorted everywhere."

She scoffed silently. "Are you apologizing to _Santana_ Lopez?"

"You're absolutely right. Why am I even talking to you? Good riddance!" He strode up to Karofsky, looking back at Santana to see her smiling cheekily.

So that's when, after the bell had rung and class was over, he knew something was off. Karofsky had come to escort him to Glee Club all the same, but something in the air was supercharged, the atoms were precariously rebounding off the walls, the air was too light. His suspicions were confirmed shortly after when Blaine appeared around the bend, grinning up at him like a loon. An adorable, adorable loon.

Blaine sprung up to him and planted a firm kiss on his cheek.

"Wha- what's going on?"

"I need your help. Again."

"No problem, babe. Whadaya need?"

"First I need to tell you something."

Kurt hesitated. "Alright…"

"Come sit down with me."

Kurt took a seat next to him, savoring the warmth emanating from Blaine's close body. He was always so close, yet why did he feel like repeating that stupid cliché in his head over and over again? _He was so close, yet so far away._ There was something there Blaine wasn't telling him. Perhaps he would tell him now. He hated these walls it was building.

"I need to tell you something about Quinn…" Blaine trailed off tentatively, testing the waters.

"Quinn, okay." Kurt instantly let a poker face fall like a curtain over his face. _Don't be stupid, don't get jealous._

"Yeah. Well, I wish I could be frank about this, but given my wordy nature it's almost impossible. I think I've explained most of it to you, but there's something I've been holding back. And I want you to know it's only because I didn't know if I had permission to tell you; it's personal and it's not my place to tell other's secrets."

Kurt paused, his face full of morbid wonder, his eyes shining like a perfect full moon. They brought about both the angels and demons inside Blaine, made him confused as to what he was supposed to be doing, made his only desire to be there with Kurt, forever.

He continued more slowly this time, trying to figure out to weasel his way around actually saying it. "There was this one particular instance when I was with Quinn," he began, carefully watching Kurt's face, "which was different."

"In what way?" Kurt's voice was controlled.

"In a lot of ways, actually. You see, I don't really know how to tell you because I think you'll be upset and I want you to know that it's not her fault. I guess you're right when you say I'm a flirt because _that_ happened, but I think I know why and we need to help, Kurt, we need to help her-"

"Blaine, please just tell me." His eyes were shining that irresistible shine again, but Blaine didn't know if he had the right to tell Kurt because obviously he was his boyfriend, or if he should work things out with Quinn first. He just didn't know anything. He figured Kurt could help him. All he really needed to do was talk to Quinn! So why was he here, stranded in the middle of the road like a deer in headlights?  
>"Fine," he sighed, giving up on trying to follow any rules. He would just do as he would.<p>

"She kissed me."

Kurt's mouth fell open in perfect surprise, a sullenly beautiful O. His eyes dimmed a bit, and he felt the jealousy resurge up before he could repress it.

Blaine hurried to cover up the shameful silence. "I know you're probably really angry, but please don't be angry at Quinn. She's really broken, fragile. I think that she just didn't know how to cope, Kurt. Please don't blame this on her. We need to help her!"

Blaine opened his mouth to continue, but Kurt just raised his finger to it.

"While I decidedly… _do_ _not_ approve of this," he paused, searching for the right words, "if you really insist… I won't."

Blaine sighed incredibly loudly. "Thank you, Kurt."

"So is this," he tried again, "so is this what you haven't been telling me?"

"What?"

"I know you haven't been telling me something, Blaine. I saw you at Breadstix after I was supposed to be gone, and I decided to trust you that there was a perfectly good reason why you didn't tell me."

"Kurt, I'm so sorry but I had to-"

Kurt cut him off. "Can't you just tell me why you didn't tell me? Please?" His voice trembled a bit at the end. Kurt cursed himself for letting his insecurities bleed through.

"I had to talk to Quinn about this whole debacle. I just didn't want to villainize her in any sort before she explained herself."

"Has she?" His voice trembled again.

"No, not yet. That's why I came here to you, Kurt."

"Oh really? You didn't come just to see me?" With the tone of the conversation, it could've been taken badly, but Kurt let the playfulness leak into the question. Kurt had enough faith in Blaine not to question anymore. In fact, there was still jealousy there, but mostly he was overcome with a sad compassion for Quinn.

"Shut up," Blaine mumbled, pressing a kiss to his forehead again. Kurt leaned in towards him, smiling.

"I need to talk to her, but she can't run away again."

Blaine glanced over at the clock and murmured quickly to himself. "Good thing you got here early, or else we would've had to cut this conversation short by the other members streaming into the room."

"Did I really?" All concept of time had bled together for Kurt during the course of the conversation. He didn't even remember that they were other members due to report here soon.

"So make it snappy, Anderson," Kurt smiled teasingly again.

"Help me talk to her?" Blaine fostered a puppyish tone in his voice.

Kurt brought a pondering hand to his chin, quirking his head at a playful angle.

"Pretty, pretty, please with a cherry on top?"

Kurt broke out into a smile. "Of course."

"You're my favorite! Now, I better get out of here before I disrupt your dear classmates who seem to be shuffling in right about now-"

And just like a physic, he was right.

"No wait." Kurt stood up as they seemed to shuffle back towards the door, their eyes focusing on something in the near distance.

"I think there's a fight going on out there…"

Blaine shuddered involuntarily.

"But I think Quinn's still in here. They should be occupied with watching the fight for a few seconds; go talk to Quinn!"

As much as Blaine hated to take advantage of violence to talk to Quinn, he did need to. So, without further ado, he creeped up behind her and pulled her aside.

Quinn was breathlessly laughing until she turned around to see who it was.

"Blaine," she exhaled, the name coasting along her breath, "what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Look, I really think now's not the time-"

"No, it is the time. This is the only time I have."

"What?"

"You'll walk away if I so much as bring up the topic you know I will bring up."

"No, really Blaine, I_ can't_ talk about this."

"Then don't talk, listen to me."

Quinn flexed her jaw, about to refuse, about to escape. Instead she just waited. Like she always was. Waiting.

"I'm gay. I can't be what you need."

Quinn inhaled sharply.

"_But," _Blaine quickly continued, "I think you need to lay off of the guys for a while. They're breaking your heart, don't you see?"

"I can be your best friend, Quinn. You don't need a man, you're so much better than that. You're a really pretty girl Quinn-"

She smiled shyly, feeling the warmth rise up to her cheeks.

"-but you don't need that to be confident. I know you know it, and you abuse it, Quinn."

She snorted indignantly, but if she was being true with herself, she did. It was the only thing she had left.

Blaine glanced over as the commotion in the hallways seemed to lessen. He quickened his words, added a patented flurry. "I want to be nicer about this, I want to take more time to work through what I'm saying, but I can't. I simply don't have that time. I just want you to know that I love you. But I love you as a friend and I think that's what you need. Please just promise me that you'll at least keep in touch? I _need_ you, Quinn. We're both hurting, and I can be the shoulder to cry on for you. I know what it feels like to be hurt like you are. Just please don't sever our ties, please?"

The students started shuffling into the room again. Blaine slipped out of the room, shooting Kurt a quick glance of goodbye and escaped to his car.

As Kurt entered the room, Quinn came over and sat next to him, handing him something behind their backs.

"What-"

"Look what I got," Quinn whispered mischeviously.

After a short moment comprehension dawned on him. "Blaine's phone! What- why?"

"Look, I need to talk to you."

"As I noticed when you so out of character-ly came up to me without a cold look or any hint of dissatisfaction."

Quinn ignored Kurt's remark. "I kissed your boyfriend."

"Would you like to explain why…?"

"Why do you think anyone kisses someone?"

"I know, Quinn. Just, why are you telling me? If you were trying to stir up drama in the Glee club or between me and Blaine, you certainly wouldn't tell me. So why are you telling me?"

"Because I think you deserve to know."

"Yes, but- What are your intentions here, Quinn? Look, Blaine's too nice of a guy to tell you if-"

"Why are you not freaking out? Does the news that I kissed your boyfriend do nothing to you?"

"He told me. But he was too nice to actually say it and was beating around the bush for a good deal of time before he did…"

Quinn should've felt a hot flash of anger course through her, but all she thought was that was fair. After all, in a healthy relationship that was what happened. Trust.

"I- I'm not trying to make Blaine a cheater or anything, Kurt."

"I know," he replied quietly. "What are you trying to do?"

"I don't really know."

Mr. Schue silenced the class from the head of the room, so in response Quinn pulled out a notepad and discreetly passed it to Kurt.

Quinn handed him a red pen and he printed out, "_You two are kind of alike, you know."_

In the front of the room, Mr. Schue was going on about this week's lesson and broadening their experience in some genre of music, but Quinn wasn't listening, she was staring at the words on the white page.

_How so?_

_ He was telling me earlier about how he needed to be friends with you. I didn't understand, but he has to be friends with you, Quinn. _

_ But why?_

_ He loves you and wants to help you._

Her heart clenched painfully.

_But he can't love me. I'm a mess and he's on your side, not mine._

_ Sexually, yes, he's on my side. Emotionally, he's honestly just as much as a mess as you are. Give him a chance?_

_ Are you wondering why I showed you Blaine's phone earlier?_

_ Yes._

_ This is me giving myself a second chance._

She took the phone from Blaine's hand and added her number. She added her name as, _Quinn. On s'appelle._

Kurt smiled warmly at her, although he didn't quite understand what the French meant. Either way, who would've ever thought he of all people would be friends with Quinn Fabray?

_Give this back to Blaine._

_ Sure thing._

* * *

><p>Later that evening Kurt drove over to Blaine's house, carefully cherishing his phone within his fingertips. He went up and rang the doorbell, to which he was greeted by a cheerful Mrs. Anderson and the news that Mr. Anderson was out at the current time. Blaine was up in his bedroom and he was welcome to go up there.<p>

"Thank you, Mrs. Anderson," Kurt replied.

"Anytime, dear."

Kurt meandered up to Blaine's room, knocking three times on the door. That was their system to identify each other if they were to come knocking. Three knocks.

Blaine opened the door, his hair a curly mess.

"Hey Kurt! Don't mind my hair."

"I don't mind," he answered, ruffling it.

"Not that I don't enjoy having you around, but what'd you come here for?"

Kurt took a seat on his bed. "I have a certain object of yours."

"Alright…"

"But before I give it back to you, you have to promise me something."

"And that would be?"

"Tell me what this says?"

"What says?"

"Here," he said as he handed him his phone.

Sure enough, there in his contacts, was _Quinn. On s'appelle._

Blaine laughed out of joy and the use of French. Wasn't that the after the date type use of the phrase?

"Call me. It says call me."

Kurt surged up from the bed. "Call her now. Right now!"

"Since when were you so interested in our friendship?" Blaine asked playfully, taking a seat next to Kurt.

"Since you trusted me with that information this afternoon. Since I saw how much it hurt you. Since I care about you and you care about her."

Blaine's heart beat quickened to a faster pace, everything appeared in a gold-ish haze of delight.

"I really love you."

Kurt leaned into his shoulder. "Call Quinn!"

"Alright, alright! I'm dialing now…"

* * *

><p>Quinn stared at her phone, willing Blaine to call. When the phone rang, she jumped up from her bed to snatch it up. <em>Unknown Number.<em> Even though she didn't have Blaine's number, she knew it was him.

"Hello?"

"Quinn," Blaine started.

"Blaine! I'm sorry. For everything."

"So," Blaine drawled, "_amis_?"

"_Amis_," Quinn confirmed, "_Merci. Merci beaucoup._"

"Remember, _je suis la pour toi, _Quinn._"_

On the other line, Quinn could hear Kurt yelling about how he couldn't understand what they were saying.

"Come on! What are you guys saying? I could speak in another language too. ¿De qué estás hablando?"

Quinn tried to hold back her giggles, but Blaine was already laughing so she assumed she could too.

"Shut up, I know it doesn't sound as good as French, but at least it sounds… foreign!"

"_Bien essayé, _Kurt."

Blaine just laughed at how Kurt got so riled up at Quinn's comment. "See you around, Quinn?"

"Absolutely."

"See you then!"

"Looking forward to it." She really was.


End file.
